


Never Gets Easier

by LynMars79



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Final Fantasy XIV: Heavensward, Gen, Grief, Parenthood, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-30
Updated: 2018-08-30
Packaged: 2019-07-04 12:19:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15841170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LynMars79/pseuds/LynMars79
Summary: The big Heavensward character spoiler is central here. Two counts taking an evening stroll and discussing an unfortunate similarity.





	Never Gets Easier

Edmont had found himself walking the city often; sometimes with Artoirel, discussing matters his son wished advice on. Sometimes with Ser Aymeric, if only to ensure the young Lord Speaker did not spend all his time in his office. Rarely with Commander Lucia, who could also use time for herself more often.

But mostly, he walked alone, through the Pillars, and sometimes into Foundation, depending on the whims of his restless feet and wandering mind. This evening was one of his lonelier walks, as the skies turned crimson and gold, passing clouds and the islands far overhead casting shadows over the streets before the last light faded. It had been a beautiful day, and promised to be an equally lovely evening.

He was having difficulty appreciating the fine weather, or the happy chatter and laughter, the bantering and debating, of seminarians as they scattered out of Saint Endalim’s Scholasticate with the tolling of cathedral bells.

Tomorrow would have been Haurchefant’s nameday.

No matter how he strained, Edmont could not, would not, hear his second son’s voice, his boyish laughter, his good natured dramatics. He thought that he would gladly hear even his son’s hurt and anger again; those were certainly, regrettably, more familiar to his ears.

As he made his way past Saint Reymanaud’s, through the din of the students, he heard a deeper, familiar voice call out, “Lord Edmont!”

Edmont paused, looking around, until he caught sight of Count Charlemend de Durendaire’s blue cap, dodging through the crowd. Edmont leaned on his cane and waited, out of politeness at least; his peer deserved that much. “Lord Charlemend,” he said, bowing his head slightly in greeting, as the other man drew near.

Charlemend nodded in return. “We don’t often see you on this side of the Vigil,” he said. “Not keeping you from business, am I?”

“Not at all; the nice thing about retirement is the decided lessening of unwanted work.”

Charlemend chuckled. “Must be nice. Mind if I walk with you? It is a lovely evening.”

Edmont drew his brows together in thought, but could not come up with a specific reason to deny the request. Nevermind that he and Charlemend had barely had a civil word in the past twenty years, often using intermediaries when their Houses had to work together.

“Not at all,” Edmont replied. Perhaps it would be a distraction.

Charlemend fell in step with him, keeping his pace slow in deference to the old injury that necessitated Edmont’s cane, though it was a good day and he felt almost close to healthy, or some vague memory of what that meant, at least.

“Lord Artoirel has been acquitting himself quite well in matters of state,” Charlemend said. “Not that I am surprised; he has always been a serious and focused young man.”

“Yes, he is taking to his duties rather well, despite himself,” Edmont replied, smiling at the compliments for his eldest.

“I find myself envious, Edmont. Retirement suits you--and your writing--and you’ve a son ready and able to take on the duties of your House.”

“Hrmph,” Edmont considered his actual reply carefully. “I am certain you shall see Durendaire through Ishgard’s many recent changes, and come to a decision about succession ere long.”

“I have come to accept such--though Halone help me, I am considering Jannequinard again.” Charlemend looked out over the thinning crowds as they made their way down one of the sweeping stairs toward the next plaza. “He _is_ doing better, with that Sharlayan woman’s influence. Still, would that this were not a matter of debate at all.” He sighed.

“Does it ever get easier?” Edmont found himself asking. He had not meant to, yet the words escaped his lips without his consent.

Charlemend was quiet as they crossed the plaza, coming to the rails overlooking the Jeweled Crozier and levels even further below. The sun had dipped below the mountains, the reds in the sky turning more purple, the shadows deepening.

“No,” Charlemend finally said, his own voice hoarse. He cleared his throat. “If I ever stop believing that he is out there, somewhere, and may yet one day come home--that is the day I die, Edmont, in spirit if not in body, though that shall not be long after. And yet...I know that boy I remember is gone forever, and the man he may have become...he is a stranger to me. Perhaps always shall be, even should we meet.”

“At least you have hope.”

“I do not know that it is easier,” Charlemend said. “I may never know his fate. I only know that I miss him, every day. That there is so much I regret, and wish to all the gods I could take back now.” He shook his head. “But the words were said, the choices made, and now here we are.”

“Here we are,” Edmont echoed, the hollow feeling in his chest constricting dangerously.

“Doubtless others have tried to offer the comfort that your son was beloved by his soldiers and peers, despite...circumstances. That he died a hero, fighting to protect and change our nation for the better.” Charlemend scoffed. “They have either never lost a child--thank the Fury--or lie to themselves and others about recovering from the loss.”

“You disagree that it’s possible?”

“You know full well there are some wounds from which one can never recover,” Charlemend answered. “Oh, they may heal over, but there are scars. There is lingering damage, and you’re never quite the same after. Some days you may feel almost normal, while other days it hurts to breathe, let alone leave your bed. Yet, the day’s work must be done. Eventually, you do stop feeling guilty for laughing, or finding joy in simple things again; I can promise that much, at least.”

Edmont looked out over the chasm beyond the city walls as he listened. Mist and darkness shrouded the abyss while the last rays of daylight faded. “Did Baurendouin put you up to this?”

“Not in so many words,” Charlemend replied honestly. “He and I spoke much, after his own loss. He does worry for you; you ought to speak with him yourself.”

Edmont shook his head. “That is the trouble; he is too good a friend.” He smiled wryly. “Where you and I have not spoken much, since...well, since your boy was lost.”

“I did not exactly make things easy, in mine own grief and anger,” Charlemend admitted. “But times are changing, and even old soldiers such as we must adapt--and mend what bridges we can, while we can.” He turned his pale eyes toward Edmont; they fairly shone in the lamplight. “Perhaps sharing all with a good friend is exactly what’s needed, Edmont, and dignity be damned. The other option would not suit you so well.”

“And that is?”

“Remember what I said about those who learn to lie? But you Fortemps, for all that you’ve always been Ishgard’s diplomats, are terrible at that. Hearts on your sleeves, the lot of you.”

Edmont snorted--though he really could not deny it, either. “I thank you for your candor.”

“You are welcome. One of the greatest frustrations is everyone treating you delicately afterwards, as if you’ll break.” Charlemend shrugged. “Though it may feel likely, the gods made us of sterner stuff than that.”

“I shall try to keep that in mind,” Edmont said. “If you would excuse me, Count Charlemend, it is getting rather late…”

“Of course,” his peer said, straightening from his lean on the railing. “I’ve patronized you long enough, I’m sure.”

“I did not feel you were patronizing me,” Edmont said. After a moment’s pause, he continued, “Thank you, again, for your honesty.”

“You are welcome. Feel free to avail yourself of my honesty any time; there are other matters I would love to discuss.” Charlemend grinned.

Edmont chuckled. “I am sure; though, luckily for me, that is more and more Artoirel’s responsibility. But I shall be sure to recommend him.” He smirked.

Charlemend laughed--though Edmont heard the tinge of bitterness to it, present ever since the day word of a ship’s loss had arrived in Ishgard twenty years ago. He wondered if others noted a similar change in his own tones.

The two inclined their heads to one another, and went their separate ways, Durendaire back toward the Belfry, Fortemps to the Alicorn, though Edmont paused on the stairs leading up to the walkway of the Last Vigil.

In the early evening light, under the lamps gleaming like nearby stars along the road, he could see Charlemend’s blue hat and coat, moving slowly, thoughtfully. There was little doubt as to who was on his mind.

Edmont sighed and continued his journey toward home. Tomorrow, he decided, he would pay a visit to the family crypts, and then...Then perhaps a visit to the Rose Garden was needed after all. Mayhap a short trip to the Central Highlands as well.

It would not get easier, but like his old wounds, he could learn to live with it, and some days would be better than others. Tomorrow, he knew, would be one of the harder ones.

As the wind whistled up from the Steps of Faith, he swore he heard a familiar boyish laugh.


End file.
